


Reality Will Break Your Heart (Survival Will Not Be The Hardest Part)

by resistance



Series: The Devil's Son (and Other Sinful Titles) [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Caring, Cause his father was an abusive piece of shit, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, Loving Relationships Built on Mutual Support, M/M, Modern AU, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sleepy Cuddles, Zuko has PTSD, jasmine tea, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 08:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resistance/pseuds/resistance
Summary: Awoken in a sheen of icy sweat, Zuko faces the memories he had tried so hard to push away, protected only by the scent of Jasmine tea and a pair of familiar arms.





	Reality Will Break Your Heart (Survival Will Not Be The Hardest Part)

**Author's Note:**

> TW:  
> Zuko gets quite nasty nightmares. It's all in italics at the beginning so you can skip over that but this one-shot is about how Sokka helps Zuko through his panic attacks so if you're at all sensitive please be careful. 
> 
> There's also a vague description of violence and abuse that takes place after Sokka says "If you're ready to talk about it, I'm all ears,", so please take care of yourselves and if any of the subjects covered in this piece upset you, I have provided a skip point (Skip to 'He had friends who loved him') and some helplines to call if you feel unstable.

_Hands around his neck._

_Flames._

_Heat, fire, pain please make it stop_

_it hurts_

_"You'll never be enough, Zuko,"_

_No, please no._

_"A waste of space,"_

_Stop._

_"Just like your bitch mother,"_

"NO!" Zuko screamed, sitting bolt upright. Cold sweat trickled down his back, heart pounding a mile a minute. "NO, PLEASE!" 

Beside him, Sokka's sleeping form shifted, groaning softly. Confused mutterings met Zuko's ears, but he couldn't quite comprehend them, everything seeming to move through tar. A soft voice muttering- it was so different from the harsh snaps he had grown up with- almost alien. 

"No," he whispered, trembling. It was all he could think to say. 

Something shifted behind him and strong arms wound around his chest, hot breath dusting across neck where Sokka's face was buried in the crook. 

"It's okay," he murmured, pressing a butterfly kiss behind Zuko's ear. "You're okay," 

Sokka could feel the tremors that wracked Zuko's body, the silent sobs that shook him, and his heart broke. He knew there was little he could say to console the shaking man, and so whispered sweet nothings on repeat. _"I've got you, you're safe,"_ he breathed, bringing one hand up to run it through Zuko's sweat-dampened hair. 

"S-okka-" he choked out, his breath coming out in short sharp bursts. "-I-he-" 

"Shhh," Sokka interrupted, pulling Zuko back against his chest. "It's okay, you don't have to explain to me. Not right now," 

Zuko nodded weakly, turning his head to the side to bury his face in Sokka's shoulder. His shirt was sticking to him, so uncomfortable it became upsetting, but he was too tired to move. God, he was so tired- of the tears, of the flashbacks, of it all. Zuko was exhausted.

When the tremors subsided, Sokka placed a hand on Zuko's upper arm, rubbing this thumb in circles on the flesh there. "Hey," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, "We need to get you cleaned up," It wasn't a question, but the way he said it implied that he was waiting for an answer. 

Another nod was all the response he got. 

"Can you stand?" 

Zuko shifted, turning his legs towards the edge of their shared bed. "I- I think so," 

Sokka could feel the ache in his chest at how quiet Zuko was. He knew his past was bad, but Zuko had never gone into the details, and Sokka had never asked, knowing that Zuko would tell him in due time. 

"Okay," he said softly, shifting out from behind Zuko and sliding off the edge of the mattress, holding out his hands for Zuko to take. "Come on, let's get you showered, yeah?"

Zuko shifted, bit by bit, towards the edge of the mattress, his feet touching the floor under a tentative weight. He took Sokka's hands, trying to stand, but his legs were too weak, his body too fatigued, and he fell forwards almost instantly. 

Sokka caught him quickly, holding him close. "Woah there," he murmured, leaning forwards to counteract Zuko's weight. "I've got you," 

Rather than attempt to stagger into the bathroom with Zuko's uncooperative limbs, Sokka placed Zuko's arms around his neck, bending down to scoop him up into his arms. Zuko made a noise of protest, but it was of half-effort and the way he buried his face in Sokka's neck made it all too unconvincing.  Sokka pressed a kiss to Zuko's hair, humming a soft lullaby his mother used to sing to him on an attempt to soothe him. 

With great difficulty, Sokka somehow managed to hit the light switch in the right direction, the harsh white lights hurting his eyes. He set Zuko down on the lidded toilet seat, before turning on the shower. As it started to heat up, Sokka turned to Zuko once more, his gaze gentle. 

"Can you undress?" he asked, not unkindly, looking Zuko directly in the eyes.

Zuko pulled his shirt up and over his head, but it got stuck halfway, causing a comical scene that Sokka had to bite the inside of his mouth not to laugh at. He helped lift his shirt the rest of the way, tossing it in the laundry hamper just outside the bathroom door. He helped Zuko stand and pulled off his boxers, tossing them in the same direction as his shirt, before leading him towards the bathtub and helping him under the warm spray of the shower. 

Zuko leant against Sokka with an exhausted slack, his face buried in the crook of Sokka's neck. He was often tired after an episode, that wasn't new to Sokka at this point, but never before had he seemed so... empty. It was like every single part of him was burnt out, exhausted, and he just didn't want to exist anymore. And it wasn't like a good nights sleep would fix it, this was something Sokka had never seen in his boyfriend before. He was worried, yes, but would he ever voice that worry to Zuko? No. It would make him feel guilty- as if he was burdening Sokka- and then he'd struggle in silence. He'd rather have Zuko communicating with him than making him guess when he's having an off day. 

Putting his internal debate aside, Sokka grabbed his bottle of shampoo from the hanging shelves he had in the shower, squirting a puddle of it into his palm before massaging it in Zuko's hair. He ran his nails over Zuko's scalp, smiling at the soft noises it drew from him, before washing out the soap with gentle brushes of his fingers, mindful of keeping it out of Zuko's eyes. Next, he grabbed Zuko's loofah, lathering it up in body-wash that smelt like vanilla and some sort of warm spice. He ran it gently over Zuko's skin, washing off the scent of fear that always resided on him after a particularly bad panic. The bubbles glided over the smooth curve of Zuko's back, chased away by the stream of water above their heads. He continued over Zuko's stomach and chest, bringing the loofah down over his arms to finish. 

"Th-ank you," Zuko hiccupped, voice still shaky from his screaming earlier. 

Sokka shook his head, running his palm up and down Zuko's bicep comfortingly. "You don't need to thank me, Zuko," he murmured in return, leaving a comfortable silence in his wake. 

Sokka shut off the shower and grabbed two towels from the rack beside the tub, wrapping one around his waist and using the other to dry off Zuko. With that done, he helped him out of the shower and sat him back on the edge of the bathtub, kissing him on the forehead with the promise that he'd be right back. He disappeared off into their bedroom, returning in sweatpants and an unzipped hoodie that appeared to be put on in a rush if the fact that it was inside out had anything to do with it. He had a pair of Zuko's boxers and one of the hoodies he had stolen from Sokka on multiple occasions in his hands and was about to ask Zuko if he could dress when he was met with the raised arms of his boyfriend, who was looking increasingly tired. With an affectionate look, Sokka dressed Zuko and carried him back to bed, fluffing up his pillows and setting him down. 

"This seems like the time for Jasmine tea, don't you think?" 

Zuko nodded. "Yeah," he whispered, voice hoarse. 

"Okay," Sokka murmured, running a hand through Zuko's fluffy towel-dried hair. "I'll be right back, yeah?" 

Just as he was heading towards their bedroom door, Zuko muttered something that caused him to stop in his tracks. 

"Huh?" 

"Oh," Zuko started, seeming jumpy. "I-It's nothing," 

He knew Sokka was unconvinced, but he left to make jasmine tea anyway, which Zuko was thankful for. Sokka never pushed for information, unlike others before him, and that's what made him so different. His approach to Zuko's PTSD was to ask questions where he needed to and to leave certain subjects alone when Zuko became bristled. He knew Zuko would tell him in due time, and so often left him with his thoughts, letting him know he was there with gentle touches or kind glances. 

Zuko lost track of time for a few minutes, stirred only by Sokka's return, two mugs of tea in his hands. "Here," he said, handing Zuko a mug. He took it gratefully, wrapping his palms around the ceramic as if it were a lifeline.

The familiar smell of his Uncle's recipe ignited his senses and he felt himself relax, leaning against Sokka, who had gotten into bed beside him. Zuko leant against his boyfriend once more, the fatigue truly showing in him. Almost automatically, Sokka's hand found it's place carding fingers through Zuko's hair. It calmed the burned boy, a trick Sokka had discovered early on. A gentle kiss was pressed to Zuko's hairline, followed by a voice he had come to adore.

"You don't have to talk about it, y'know," Sokka murmured, clearly testing the waters. He didn't want to push, instead wanting Zuko to know that whether they talked about it or not was completely up to him. 

"I... I want to," Zuko replied, his voice beginning to lose its waver. "It's- It's just..." he trailed off, the hand not holding his mug flailing in an attempt to find the right words. 

Sokka nodded slowly, knowing what his boyfriend meant. "It's a sensitive topic," 

"Yeah," he agreed, "I just... I need to get it out." 

Sokka shifted behind him, the slight 'clink' of his mug being put on his bedside unit reaching Zuko's ears before arms wrapped around his middle. "If you're ready to talk about it, I'm all ears," 

Zuko squeezed the hands that met around his midriff affectionately, letting out a long sigh. "My father- Ozai- was a cruel man and an even crueller husband..." 

And just like that, the dam broke, and Zuko could hear himself telling the story of a love story gone bad, of a wife beaten black and blue, and a young boy so scared of stepping out of line he didn't speak for years, followed by his escape from the house that plagued his dreams. He could still feel every mark, every bruise, every bandage change, and he saw his entire past every time he looked in the mirror. 

"I was eleven when I plucked up the courage to call for help. My school's nurse gave me a number to call if things ever got bad, and there was a night where Ozai he... he had too much to drink, even for his standards. He got violent and then passed out on the couch. I called the number when I thought he was unconscious, but he woke up just as I hung up the phone. He demanded to know who I had called, and when I was too afraid to answer, he snapped. I remember the smell of gasoline, the noise of a lighter, and then waking up in the hospital with bandages over my face. I never saw my father again,"

He didn't even know the tears were falling until Sokka brushed them away with his thumb, and pulled Zuko into his lap, holding him to his chest. 

There wasn't anything Sokka could say that didn't sound pitiful but felt that he should say something for fear that Zuko thought he was judging him, and so settled for a simple

_"You survived it all, Zuko."_

And he had. He had survived years of abuse, years of trauma, and was here now- living and breathing.

He had friends who loved him and a lover who kept him safe in the night when his mind was at its weakest. Despite what his father had done, Zuko's heart was still beating. And for now, 

that was enough. 

* * *

Republic of Ireland:

[Samaritans  
](https://www.samaritans.org/)call 116 123 (free to call)

UK:

[Samaritans](https://www.samaritans.org/) – for everyone   
 **Call 116 123**    
 **Email**  [jo@samaritans.org](mailto:jo@samaritans.org)

[Childline](https://www.childline.org.uk/) – for children and young people under 19   
 **Call 0800 1111**  – the number won't show up on your phone bill

 

US: 

National Alliance for the Mentally ill

1-800-950-6264

National Mental Health Association Information Centre

1-800-969-6642

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're suffering under the topics mentioned in this piece, please get help if you can. 
> 
> National Domestic Violence Hotline  
> 1-800-799-7233
> 
> National Child Abuse Hotline  
> 1-800-422-4453


End file.
